See the full length version of Patience and persistence here.

Andrew: Despite the challenges of the day prior, we woke up enthusiastic the next morning.  Coffee was made extra strong to increase interest further.  We headed to a different spot on the same river.  It was a little more open, and offered amazing vistas of the range to the west.  It looked like we had walked for two days to get into this place by ourselves.  Without the local expertise, I probably would have done something silly like that.  Each corner we turned offered a different vista and the everchanging vegetation was enough to be a constant distraction.  

The first fish was found and I was up.  The jitters of yesterday seemed to have disappeared, helped by a conscious effort to slow down my action.  Regardless a couple of good drifts, it wasn’t playing ball.  Clearly surprised by my ability to follow instructions I was asked “what happened with my client from yesterday?”.  I wonder how many times that line has been rinsed.  That set something of a pattern for the morning, with both if us in better form than before.  Regardless, the browns proved picky, and we had no success.  

Coming across a lovely run, we spied a small fish readily rising to something in the surface film.  

“Want to play with the little guy, or move on”?  

“Are you serious?  That’s a Canberran trophy”

A couple of drifts and fly changes saw the ‘little’ guy’ come up and sip a small terrestrial pattern.  It also turned out to be the other side of two pounds, which again revealed that both the guides’ statement and mine could be correct.  

Lunch followed, where we huddled under the shelter of some bank side scrub to escape the now considerable sun.  I mentioned to our guide, who was impressed by our identification of the most sheltered spot, that ‘in Australia, all first year students have to complete ‘Finding Shade 1001’.  He believed me, making it one all in the shit-talk tally. 

Wandering back down to where we had concluded, a fish was spotted in deep fast water, a black splodge behind a large boulder.  Sam graciously let me have another go despite the recent success.  The lead balls came back out along with a couple of slender nymphs, but absent was the usual woolly indicator.  Doing as instructed, I dumped the flies in the head of the run, mended hard, and waited.  The moment the dark shape shifted from its position, I was instructed to lift, and which point the relatively calm run exploded into life.  Another aerialist, taking to the skies several times over the course of a five minute scuffle.  Eventually the fish of the trip was netted, both in terms of size and the totally new way (for me) which that it was caught.  My day made, attention turned to Sam.